


Full-Frontal Volleyball

by satincolt



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Body Positivity, Gen, Modern AU, Nude Beach, Pre-Relationship, Scars, Trans Keith (Voltron), Trans Male Character, Trans Shiro (Voltron), body acceptance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 07:44:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15068441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satincolt/pseuds/satincolt
Summary: Shiro's therapist prescribes him a trip to a nude beach to help him overcome his reservations about the scars from his accident and his "downstairs situation."  He grudgingly goes, not expecting at all to play naked volleyball with strangers and actually enjoy it... or to get a coffee date with a sweet, cute guy out of it.





	Full-Frontal Volleyball

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by a prompt on the [Sheith Kink Meme](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/voltron_sheith_kink_meme/requests) that I thought had an interesting premise but I wanted to change a whole bunch of stuff about it so it can't properly be called a fill. It's also based off my own experience in a nude spa, which was super fun because it was literally the least awkward, despite being completely naked and surrounded by strangers. It was overall a super neat experience, especially seeing naked bodies in a totally non-sexual and relaxed way and having it be normal. Getting to sit in the hot tub for an hour was a bonus

“…you’re saying I need to go to a nude beach?”  Shiro stares blankly at his therapist, clearly having heard her but somehow hoping he misheard her.  But she just nods politely and smiles.  Shiro falls silent.

“I think it would be a great way to feel more comfortable in your own skin,” she says, raising her eyebrows.  Shiro finds himself mirroring the gesture before he forces his face flat again.

“Is this because of the scars or because of the, uh, package thing?  Because I really don’t think people need to be subjected to either.”  Shiro crosses his arm skeptically over his chest and leans back in his chair.

“What’s the worst that can happen?  It’s not like you’re going to get an erection in front of everyone—not one that anybody else could see, anyways.  Everyone there has consented to be naked, it’s not a sexual space,” his therapist fires back.  “You can’t be the only one with scars.”

“But not everyone’s scars are from aviation crashes,” Shiro responds automatically.  “Not a lot of other people are also missing arms.”

“Are you worried you’re going to be stared at because of those things?”

“No—yes.  Burn scars are ugly.”

“I know, you’ve showed me.  You’re more worried about what people might be thinking about your scars than you are about being naked.”

“I just… don’t want to be looked at.”

“Because _you_ don’t want to look at yourself, or because you’re afraid of what people will think?”

“…both.”

“I can guarantee you you’re overthinking.  You’re never going to see those people again.  They’re going to be too busy enjoying the beach or worrying about their own nudity to worry about your body, too.  It’s going to take time for you to come to terms with your scars, but think about them as signs that you survived, that your body is capable of healing itself from terrible, terrible injuries.  Isn’t that pretty amazing?”

“I know, I know…”

Shiro heaves a heavy sigh, rubbing his hand over his face.  As much as he hates to admit it, Rebecca is right.  She’s got a way of pointing out Shiro’s ridiculous thoughts without being judgmental or ridiculing him for them.  In the end, he always understands what she’s trying to get him to see.

 

And that’s exactly how he ends up in the changing room of the nearest private nude beach, which is still a solid two hour drive from Shiro’s home, he should mention.

 

There’s nobody else in the changing room, though he can hear chatter and the sounds of people enjoying the sun from outside, just as they would at any other clothed beach.  Which Shiro would like to state for the record, that he avoids those, too.  He takes a deep breath and steels himself before removing his clothes.  He’s naked now, but he’s never been more acutely aware of his nakedness before in his life.  He’s all too conscious of his lack of a right arm, like a blinking neon sign hangs from the stump of his shoulder.  There might as well be a smaller sign hanging from his crotch to advertise his lack of a penis.  His scars feel tight and sensitive and too big.  Someone could have painted them onto his body with tight-drying Day-Glo liquid latex based on the way they feel.

_I should’ve come here with someone.  No.  That would be worse.  Then they’d have to deal with me like this.  I’ve just got to go out there and do it.  But what am I even doing?  Should I wrap my towel around my waist?  No, definitely not, then I’ll just look like I’m uncomfortable.  Everyone will look at me because I **won’t** be naked.  I’ll find a chair and put my towel down and lay down and close my eyes for at least ten minutes.  Then I’ll leave.  I can tell Rebecca I came here and this will be over with._

Not really satisfied with his own pep talk, Shiro nevertheless straightens up and faces the door out to the beach, pretending he’s cloaked in confidence he doesn’t have, his towel draped over his forearm.  He strides forward, pushing open the door with his elbow, and steps out into blinding sun and burning-hot sand.

Wincing with the initial shock of it, Shiro recovers quickly and proceeds to a stand of beach loungers before his confidence can completely run away from him.  As he goes, he scans them rapidly for an empty chair.  There’s one, but it’s right in between two other people.  Why can’t there be a group of three open, or one on the end?  Shiro’s heart is beginning to race as he comes closer and closer to having to make a decision and sit, fully naked, next to a completely nude stranger who is _definitely_ going to stare at his oddity of a body.

Twenty feet until a decision must be made.  Shiro looks around in what he hopes is a casual manner, trying to subtly hunt for a rogue empty chair that might have somehow magically Apparated into existence fifty feet away from every other person on this beach.  It’s at that point he realizes everyone else here is white.  Not that it matters, but it means he sticks out like even more of a sore thumb.  _Come on, where’s a lone chair in a secluded area when you need one?_

Shiro reaches the chairs and curses internally.  He has no choice but to proceed down the line until he reaches the only empty chair in the middle of a row of twenty or so.  The occupants of each chair glance up at him as he passes, but Shiro keeps his eyes pointedly forwards.  _Don’t look at me, I won’t look at you.  Please don’t look at me._

It would be impolite to sigh as he puts down his towel on the vinyl strapping of the beach chair, so Shiro holds it in.  Then, just as his towel touches the chair, someone shouts in his direction.

“Hey, man!”  He doesn’t turn immediately, half hoping whichever guy just hailed him was actually talking to someone else.  Footsteps are approaching him rapidly from behind, their proximity quickly lowering the odds of anyone else being the subject in question.  “Hey!”

Shiro turns around, fixing a neutral white-person smile to his face that he hopes bespeaks his incredible discomfort with the whole situation.  He’s pleasantly surprised to see the guy who ran up behind him is Asian, which eases his discomfort a hair, but doesn’t negate the fact that they’re apparently about to have a completely normal conversation and ignoring the fact they’re both wholly nude.  “We’re looking for a third person for our volleyball team and you’re tall, would you want to play with us?” the guy asks, like it’s any other beach and he’s not propositioning a one-armed amputee to play _volleyball,_ a sport which generally requires a minimum of two arms.

“Uh,” Shiro says gracefully.  “You’re probably asking the wrong guy.”  He gestures vaguely to his empty right shoulder with a small chuckle to preemptively ease the guilt and discomfort the other guy’s going to feel at recognizing he’s an amputee.  The guy’s eyes follow his gesture to his shoulder and they widen slightly, but his expression doesn’t do that minute morbidly-fascinated-but-kind-of-horrified shift Shiro is so used to.  _I’m impressed.  He hides it better than most._

“I, well,” the guy flounders for a second before recovering himself.  “It’s just beach volleyball and it would still be great to have a third person; I thought I’d ask because you’re young and you haven’t sat down yet, but I’m, uh, really sorry for interrupting.  Have a great day.”  He gives an awkward little wave before turning on heel and making a run for it back to his cluster of friends standing by the volleyball net.

Internally, Shiro goes to war with himself as the guy jogs away and he keeps his eyes pointedly fixed on his bouncing mop of shoulder-length black hair.  _I only came here to sit down naked for ten minutes and leave.  I was bad at volleyball even with two arms.  I’m definitely going to see their junk swinging around. **But** I just survived that interaction by looking only at his eyebrows.  All I’ll have to do is watch the ball.  Maybe I’ll forget about everything else once I have something to really focus my attention on.  They said they needed a third player.  _ Shiro glances around surreptitiously.  It looks like everyone else reclining in the sun is over the age of 55.  _They need me._ His overactive sense of duty takes over and Shiro finds himself jogging unsteadily across the loose, hot sand towards the nets.

One of the Asian guy’s friends notices Shiro before he does, tapping him on the shoulder and pointing.  The Asian guy turns around, a surprised smile on his face as Shiro stops a little distance away from their group.

“I’ll play.  My name’s Shiro,” Shiro says, offering a small smile.  He recants his earlier assessment about everyone being white—all the five nonwhite people on the beach are standing right here.  There’s a couple of darker-skinned guys and a Black girl with bleach-white hair in addition to the guy who invited Shiro, as well as a really short pale girl.  They all give him friendly smiles, helping Shiro to ease some of the strain out of his shoulders.  He’s not relaxed by any means, but he’s not quite ready to develop a tension headache either.

“Awesome,” the Asian guy says, sounding almost relieved.  “I’m Keith.  This is Pidge, Hunk, Lance, and Allura.”  He gestures to every person in his cohort in turn.

“We were getting worried because it was just going to be me and Keith on a team,” the short girl, Pidge, says with a laugh.  Shiro can understand why; they’re the two shortest of the group.

“Seems unfair, but I’ll see what I can do to even the odds,” Shiro jokes.  _Fake it ‘til you make it, fake it ‘til you make it, Takashi,_ he tells himself over and over again, keeping an easygoing smile on his face as Keith arranges everyone around the volleyball net and squares up to serve behind him and Pidge.  They’re facing off against Hunk and Lance; Keith put Shiro directly across from Hunk because they’re closely matched in height.  Shiro has his doubts about the Lance-Pidge matchup, but she said to not underestimate her vertical leap and Shiro’s got nothing to lose by trusting her.  Behind him, there’s the pop of skin hitting volleyball and it goes soaring over their heads, over the net, straight into Allura’s outstretched wrists.  It pings off her forearms, only to be caught by Pidge’s jaw-dropping block.  Lance materializes in front of her with a huge grin and spikes it so hard it blows straight through Pidge’s grasp, only to be saved by a spectacular sand-spraying dive by Keith. 

The ball goes flying straight up into the air and Shiro marvels at it for a second before realizing it’s on _him_ to get it.  Pidge is shouting his name but the ball’s coming down on Shiro’s right side and he nearly steps on Keith in his scramble to get into the right position to hit it clumsily with his left arm.  The impact stings but the ball bounces just high enough to tickle the net and drop over into the sand, barely ahead of both Hunk and Lance’s frantic dives to save it.

“Yeah Shiro!” Pidge cries, holding up a reddened palm for a victory high-five.  Shiro laughs and high-fives her, then steps aside to help Keith out of the sand.  Pidge turns and takes one look at Keith and laughs.  “Good luck getting that out of all your cracks,” she cackles.

Keith grimaces playfully at her and brushes most of the sand off his chest and belly.  Shiro’s eyes can’t help but follow the movements; it’s natural to be drawn to motion.  Keith pulls a face as he sweeps his hands lower, across his crotch and thighs.  Shiro’s heart does a weird little flip and it takes him a good half second to process what he just guiltily glanced at because it’s so familiar to him that it doesn’t register as unusual, unless it’s on someone else’s body.  Keith’s got the same lack of a dick Shiro does.  He has to be sure, so he takes another couple quick peeks at Keith.  Broad shoulders, straight figure, flat chest with tell-tale indents on the bottom half of his pecs.  Keith’s trans.

Then Keith looks up, having ridded himself of sand adequately, and catches Shiro in the act of looking.  Shiro’s heart flips for an entirely different reason now and he feels his face pull an involuntary fear-look and a hot blush, but he’s helpless to stop it. 

“I’m sorry,” his mouth blurts before his brain okays it.

“For what?” Keith asks, even as he does a quick elevator-eyes over Shiro’s body.  Keith’s gaze almost has a tangible weight on Shiro’s exposed skin.  “It’s natural to look; just don’t make it weird.”

“Right, sorry—fuck, sorry—” Shiro force-quits that train of thought before it gets stuck in a recursive loop of apologizing.  “Got it.”

“Don’t worry about it.”  Keith gives Shiro a smile and a friendly clap on the shoulder— _his amputated shoulder—_ and returns to his position.  Shiro’s reeling slightly and trying to contain it.  _It’s natural to look; just don’t make it weird._ He glances over at Hunk and Lance.  They’ve both got penises.  Instinctive guilt at even _thinking_ the word penis in relation to another human wells up in Shiro, but then Allura’s serving the ball hard and fast and the volley completely distracts him. 

It turns out this group takes beach volleyball seriously.  They’re all better than Shiro expected, able to volley the ball back and forth across the net several times before scoring, even with Shiro’s less-than-helpful help.  It’s a far cry from the beach volleyball of his college days where it was just tipsy serve after serve and rousing celebration any time anybody so much as grazed the ball.  Despite that, they don’t take it _too_ seriously.  They’re constantly cracking jokes and egging each other on, casually roasting themselves for failed saves, celebrating each other for great dives and blocks and scores.  It’s easy to get swept up in the fun of it and Shiro doesn’t know at what point he finally relaxed and the smile on his face became genuine, but that’s exactly how he finds himself by the time the group calls it quits after hell only knows how many rounds.  They don’t keep score, and when they have this good of a time, why would they even need to?

“Thanks for playing with us, man,” Hunk says with a broad smile as Allura and Lance take down the net.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Shiro replies.  “I would’ve just sat in a chair for ten minutes and then left if you hadn’t.”

“That’s no fun!” Pidge cuts in.

Shiro is immensely grateful to the group and he hopes it shows in his smile.  With them, nudity feels like a nonissue.  None of them have gawked or done the worse constant-curious-glancing that Shiro gets so often when he goes out in public. 

“Hey, we’re going to get some lunch after we get changed, you wanna join?” Keith asks.  Shiro thinks on his schedule for the day and Keith gives him a minute this time, instead of fleeing in what Shiro had later realized was embarrassment.

“That sounds great.”

He retrieves his towel and heads towards the changing rooms with the group.  Keith drops back to keep pace with him but doesn’t say anything initially.

“I know you said to not make it weird and I really hope this isn’t making it weird, but it’s really great to see another Asian trans guy,” Shiro says, the words spilling out of his mouth clumsily. 

Keith doesn’t seem to mind, shaking his head.  “It’s not weird.  I thought the same thing when I saw you.”

 _Why does that feel so much like flirting?_  Shiro immediately clamps down on the thought though, because _that_ is decidedly weird territory.  Keith just feels easy to be around; Shiro knows that’s definitely due in part to the shared parts of their identities, but the guy’s got a great personality beyond that too that Shiro aches to get to know better.  “I’m actually here because my therapist recommended I come, to work on body positivity, as weird as that sounds,” Shiro confesses.

Keith chuckles, not meanly.  “I’m here for the same reason, if you can call Pidge my therapist.  She dragged me here first but then once I saw how chill it is, I came back of my own volition.”

 _“And he thanked me!”_ Pidge calls over her shoulder.  Keith sticks his tongue out at her.

“Allura’s here because of her therapist too, though.  You should talk to her; she’s got a lot of neat things to say.”

“That’s cryptic,” Shiro arches an eyebrow. 

Keith shrugs.  “Not my place to tell you.  She’s a great friend, though.”

Shiro nods.  “How did you guys all find each other?  Online?”

“I came here with Pidge at first because she coerced me.”  That appears to be an inside joke between the two.  “This was a regular thing for Lance and Hunk, and we ran into them one weekend and they just happened to have their volleyball net with them, so we played.  Next weekend when we showed up, Allura was with Lance and Hunk and after that it became a thing; we all meet up at the nude beach for some volleyball.  It’s still crazy to me how not awkward it is, but it’s because we’ve got good company.”

It’s a lot easier to get along with this crew than Shiro anticipated getting along with strangers on a nude beach would be.

“I honestly thought I’d get stared at for my scars and, you know, missing arm, but I’m really grateful that you guys didn’t make a deal out if it.”

Keith gives Shiro a small smile.  “Course not.  I get way too many looks for my scar and it’s really only here that nobody seems to care about it.”

Shiro almost has to do a double take because _scar, what scar?_ before he sees the long, red welt that cuts diagonally across Keith’s right cheek.  _How the hell did I not notice that before?_

“Huh,” is all Shiro can say in response, and by that point, the group’s reached the changing rooms.  Allura and Pidge split off into the women’s room while the rest of the group crowds into the men’s room. 

In the parking lot, it’s almost weirder seeing everyone in clothes.  Being naked had felt so natural towards the end that putting on clothes seemed wrong, somehow.  But now the group is chattering around Shiro, trying to decide on a place to lunch.  They finally settle on one and Keith offers to text him the address, so that he can meet them there.

“I’ll put my number in your phone,” he says, holding out his hands to take Shiro’s phone.  He offers up the device to Keith and when he gets it back, there’s a memo with the address for Coran’s Diner just down the highway and a little volleyball next to Keith’s name.  Before Keith turns to walk to his car with Pidge, who’s halfway there already, Shiro reaches out and touches Keith gently on the shoulder.

“If you’re open to it, I’d love to get coffee sometime; get to know you.”  He hopes with every fiber of his being he’s not coming off as creepy, but the smile that graces Keith’s lips puts that worry to bed immediately.

“I’d love to.”

**Author's Note:**

> S/o to my therapist Rebecca for being really awesome. I intended Allura to be read as a trans woman here, but then I realized I didn't want Keith to out her so it ended up being weirdly cryptic hahah (and that's why I don't have the trans Allura tag, because it's like the ghost of a mention of it). Let me know what you think of this!! Have you ever been to a nude beach or spa?


End file.
